Caela Ie'elle!
by straitjackit
Summary: “Gurth goth Tel'Quessir!” he cried, bringing his blade down upon Orieus' with great force... One shot.


Title: Caela Ie'elle!  
Summary: "Gurth goth Tel'Quessir!" he cried, bringing his blade down upon Orieus' with great force... One shot.  
Notes: Random. Very random. Possibly odd, maybe not funny for everyone (when you have the image in your head, it's freaking hilarious!). Set a few months after the Pevensies are coronated. Movie-verse, I guess... **_--..o..-- indicates a scene change._**  
Disclaimer: See profile.

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It was a quiet day at Cair Paravel. The sun was shining, the Dryads were singing, and the younger birds were 'splat-diving' to see who had the best control. Usually, these things would bring joy to the hearts of all who saw them (or extreme fear, in the case of birds), but for three children, they simply served as a reminder that all was not as well as it appeared.

One of these children, the eldest and High King of Narnia, was making his way down one of the airy halls, the light drifting in through large windows, highlighting the dancing dust in the air. His steps were quick and powerful, his stride long and his face creased with concern; he was a man – or boy – on a mission.

He was looking for his brother.

_**--..o..--**_

_A few days before..._

The four monarchs had ridden to Lantern Waste in an attempt to find the mysterious lamp post that they had seen upon arriving in Narnia. They were slowly but surely forgetting they had even come from another world, and that they really should have returned to 'Spare Oom' by now.

"Mother would be worried," Susan pointed out, ever the practical one. "I should think that old man... Oh, what was his name again?... Well, he must have told her we are missing, in the least."

They chose to remain mounted, feeling that the search would go much quicker than by foot, though it was more difficult to see if they could recall the exact path. No one present (human, animal or tree-spirit) pointed out that they had last been in the woods when it was covered with snow, and had they really been focused enough to try and remember where they had been?

After a few hours wandering through the lush greenery, shaking off the unusually persistent Dryads (all of whom kept insisting that they try the wines and fruits, or that surely they could stay for the midday meal and perhaps even a dance or two), they stopped under a kindly old Oak and groaned collectively. Edmund immediately removed his shoes, as he was finding them most uncomfortable. He poked a particularly sore spot on the back of his ankle, causing him to gasp in pain.

"I did warn you, Ed," Peter began as he dismounted. "You shouldn't wear new shoes-"

"Yes, alright. I heard you the first seven times," Edmund cut him off quickly. True enough, Peter had told him more than once to wear some worn in shoes. Where was the fun in doing as he was told?

"You clearly didn't listen."

"Oh, don't start fighting now," Lucy interrupted. "It's such a lovely day and I do think we may be close!"

"How can you tell?" Edmund snarled, the pain from his shoes, cramps in his thighs, saddle weary buttocks and his allergies making him rather grouchy. Edmund bent precariously out of his saddle, rubbing the back of one sore foot and holding on tightly to the reins of his horse. He carefully dropped from the back of the creature and hobbled his way to sit in front of the oak. "We've been dawdling along, not really paying any attention to where we were going, been dragged in circles by drunken ashes and tipsy willows who claimed to know where the metal tree is, and now we're lost! Or does someone know the way back?"

He glared at his siblings, who all were suddenly struck by the beauty of the foliage around them. He leaned back against the tree, arms folded across his chest. Their reaction had proven his point admirably.

"And what, pray tell, were you doing that could be so important? You're just as capable as the rest of us."

"I, dear brother, was the one warding off Bacchus while you began to dance with Morea, and you know that no one refuses him. He's taken quite a shine to Susan, if you haven't noticed."

Peter had noticed, and had spoken with Bacchus the first time he made a move on the very drunk and naïve Susan. Apparently, it would take drastic measures in order to get the message across.

"Fine, you've proven your point. Now put your shoes back on and let us return to the horses," Susan said, her tone leaving no space for argument. "Besides, it was only one glass."

"Two, Susan."

"One! I admit, the glass was larger than one we would usually use, but Bacchus insisted I drink such marvellous wine from a piece of his crystal ware... And I didn't drink it all."

Edmund tilted his head back, making a bottoms up motion, and imitated draining a glass, his hair brushing the tree faintly. Susan, now furious, spun on her heels and marched towards their mounts. The young king began to chuckle, but he sobered quickly as he caught the look on Peter's face. Lucy had already gotten up and chased after her sister, concerned about her emotional state.

"You couldn't leave it be, could you?" Peter scolded, rising from the ground and making his own way to the horses.

Grumbling, Edmund slipped the offending shoe back onto his foot gingerly. He frowned as he saw how far ahead the others had walked and was about to call out when he heard a loud creaking noise, and something suspiciously like a sneeze...

A shout from behind caused the three retreating monarchs to whip round. They were all quite angry at Edmund for taking things too far, Susan in particular. Annoyed,Peter had already started on his lecture.

"Ed, stop being such a-"

"Edmund!"

Rushing away from her older siblings, Lucy ran to her brother's side. He lay on the floor, unconscious, blood running down his head slowly from a gash. Peter and Susan followed her quickly; Susan lifted Edmund's head from the ground and rested it on her knees, while Peter lowered himself on his brother's right side, opposite to his youngest sister, and held Edmund's hand.

"Edmund, Edmund!" Susan called as gently as she could, attempting to keep the approaching panic at bay. Lucy could feel the tears welling up in her eyes. What could have happened? Were there enemies in the woods? Why hadn't she brought her cordial-

"Hello there!" a loud, cheery voice boomed from above them. Turning to look, Peter and the girls relaxed as they saw the kindly spirit of the oak tree beside which they had rested. Tall and surprisingly thin for an elderly Dryad, she moved a little closer, her unusually broad shoulders shadowing them. She looked down at the four, and her face turned a pale green.

"Oh, I am sorry!"

Peter raised an eyebrow in question, grip tightening on his brother's hand.

"I'm afraid I'm allergic to fur, and the young sire was leaning his right against my nose... I couldn't stop the sneeze, and my branches just whipped out..."

_**--..o..--**_

_Present_

Peter shook his head in an attempt to clear his thoughts. The Dryad had guided them back to their horses, apologising the entire way and rambling about her allergies. The blow had been hard, and Edmund had been asleep for two days. On the third, he awoke for a short while, during which he'd been too delirious to speak coherently.

It had been Peter's turn to sit in with the younger king and he had been unusually thirsty. He'd stepped out for only ten minutes, but upon his return he discovered that Edmund had disappeared. There was no sign of a struggle, so the thirteen year old was sure that his brother had gotten up and wandered off.

_Just like the stubborn prat he is! He should be in bed! _he fumed.

Peter had been quick in enlisting the help of his sisters and Tumnus the Faun, along with a couple of Nymphs who were arranging flowers around Cair Paravel, and a Talking Ferret. They had all gone off in different directions, as Cair was large even by castle standards.

_Please let him be alright._

_**--..o..--**_

"He's not alright," Tumnus told the three siblings a half hour later, shaking his head. He appeared to be quite sad, but there was a mischievous light dancing in the faun's eyes.

"Please, Tumnus, tell us where he is!" Lucy begged. Tumnus sighed, and nodded.

"He's down on the field, fencing with Orieus."

Tumnus grinned once the monarchs had left the room; he considered calling the royal scorekeeper and telling him that they had beaten the cheetah's record for fastest off the line. Wouldn't they be in for a shock when they saw their brother? Edmund wasn't in any danger, of course.

It was just amusing.

_**--..o..--**_

"Caela ie'elle!" echoed from the grounds.

The clang of swords meeting one another in combat sounded clearly through the air, punctuated occasionally by shouts of triumph or loud screeches. The noise urged the three siblings on, but upon arrival they all stopped dead in their tracks.

Edmund was fighting with Orieus, just as Tumnus had said. What the faun forgot to mention was that he was wearing a night-robe and a pair of cotton slippers made by Mrs Beaver. He was not fighting with his own sword, but rather with one of the longer, two handed blades preferred by the satyrs. He had also obtained a matching helmet and gloves, making his look most ridiculous. His hair, likely scruffy from lying in bed, was poking through the ear slits at the sides, almost like horns. The gloves, far too big for his own hands, gave his fingers a stumped look as the ends were squashed against the hilt of his blade.

"Gurth goth Tel'Quessir!" he cried, bringing his blade down upon Orieus' with great force. The Centaur General brought his sword up as if it were nothing and parried, pushing Edmund back. Spying his other charges, he brought his blade down upon his opponent's and snapped it in half, the end flying away. Satisfied that Edmund could no longer make battle, Orieus turned and galloped to them, leaving the boy spouting a nonsense language and waving the stump of his sword wildly.

"Nadorhuan! Why do you run, foul glamhoth? This fight is not yet over!"

Seeing that the centaur was ignoring him, Edmund threw the remains of his blade to the floor in anger and marched after him. As he approached, however, his demeanour seemed to change. His eyes fell upon Susan, and he gasped. Running to her, he grasped her hands and began to shout at her.

"Galadriel! Did I not tell you to stay with the Shirelings? Why are you here, in the company of a Dwarf of all things!" he yelled, his hand waving wildly in Peter's direction, eyes wide and mad. He turned on his older brother, his hands moving to finger the daggers that hung from either side of his robe's belt. It was only now that Peter could see a bow and a quiver of arrows were strapped to Edmund's back.

"How many times, Dwalin? I'll not allow her to associate with the likes of you!"

He took Susan's hand, and went to grab Lucy's.

"Come, young Hobbit, we will find a safer place than this to put you both. There are Orcs everywhere, and Dwarfs. Nasty, horrible and greedy, Dwarfs are. Especially that Kar Copperfury. He keeps trying to take that sword from my possession!" Edmund began ranting, gesturing with a nod of the head to his stump of blade left glinting in the sun on the field.

"Claims it's in my best interests! Can you believe it, Pearl?" he continued, attached to the two girls as he dragged them away, lost in his own mind. Both girls thought it best to play along, so they followed him without protest, smiling weakly at Peter as they left.

Sighing, the King turned to his General.

"What's going on, Orieus?"

The Centaur shrugged as only a Centaur could. "It appears as though King Edmund thinks he is an Elf named Elrohir Coamenel. Or so he told me when he charged."

Peter was horrified. He knew, from experience, that one did not charge at Orieus and expect to leave unscathed. He hadn't been able to walk for a week, and Lucy hadn't helped either.

_Perhaps Orieus could help me deal with Bacchus... _he thought.

"I hope this is over quickly."

Orieus smiled. "Why, sire? I find this most entertaining. He is a much better swordsman in this state. May I ask what an elf is? Some form of foot soldier, yes?"

Peter just shook his head.

_**--..o..--**_

After chasing after his wayward (and slightly insane) brother, Peter had managed to shut him in his room with difficulty. It took much effort, but eventually he managed.

"I am the High King of these lands, and you will do as you are told!" he roared, sick of hearing a foreign tongue spew from Edmund's mouth and from fighting. As it was, he would already have a lovely black eye in the morning, and he was concerned by how much his knuckles were cracking.

"Lle naa haran e' nausalle, Dwarf," Edmund had muttered before Peter slammed the door on him. Peter ignored the howls of pain as several fingers were smashed.

_Should've moved them from the doorframe._

He spoke with the court physician, who assured Peter that yes, he was perfectly fine and that Edmund would likely be back to normal in the morning. Peter retreated to his own quarters, eventually joined by his sisters. They spent a nice, relaxing evening playing chess, reading and pretending he couldn't hear the shrieks of outrage and cursing from a short way down the hall.

-End-

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Glossary:

Morea – one of the eight Hamadryads of Greek mythology. Morea was the Nymph of the mulberry tree.  
Caela ie'elle – Elvish for "Have at thee!"  
Gurth goth Tel'Quessir – Elvish for "Death to the foe of the Elves!"  
Nadorhuan – Elvish for "Cowardly dog!"  
Glamhoth – Elvish for "Orc!"  
Galadriel (full: Galadriel Coamenel) – Susan as an Elf.  
Dwalin (full: Dwalin Redanvil) – what Peter would be named, were he a Dwarf.  
Kar Copperfury – apparently Tumnus' Dwarf name.  
Pearl (full: Pearl Bumbleroot) – supposedly Lucy if she were a Hobbit.  
Elrohir Coamenel – apparently, this is Ed's Elven name.  
Lle naa haran e' nausalle – Elvish for "You are a king in your imagination!"

But don't worry, Ed got better, of course. D And, when it's up, check out Stomps for what happened to Peter when he charged Orieus.

I think this came from playing Battle for Middle Earth 2, as I vaguely thought "Edmund would be a cool elf!"

Reviews?


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